


Our way out

by Funky1981



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide Attempt, Tentacles, Violence, tied-up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funky1981/pseuds/Funky1981
Summary: A scientist that love to be choked, a mad demon that eat out of despair, a cursed nice lumberjack and a robot who hate all living matter, how could this go wrong?(Also: Getting a far from Out Of Character as possible with added personality deept, and kinky stuff.)





	1. The rules

His own scream was so loud he swear all the livings animal had quit their nest in the area.

‘’HELP! No! HAAAAArgh--!!’’

‘’At ease, Charlie.’’ He snapped his finger and the monster was gone

Wilson grabbed everything he could around him but the shadow hands kept on dragging him by his legs till he was at Maxwell feet. Then, they let go of him. He was on his back, looking at the tall figure standing between his knee. It was the fourth time this month. The demon's head tilted to the side.

‘’Quitting us so soon?’’

‘’YOU? I didn’t agreed to any of this--’’ He had made another snap. Fast shadow hands, teeth and tentacles, took him by his and he was raised 4 meters from the ground, face to face with his nemesis, except upside down.

‘’You break the rules already?’’ He said, to Wilson, with a swift shift of eye, looking at his portal half-completed. The other pieces were on the floor. If Wilson had have less than an hour before night, he would have build something and would have gotten out.

The frantic demon fine face came right back nose to nose with his prisoner. Wilson was not the kind to be tame.

‘’I guess anything that doesn't go according to your filthy plans is breaking the rules!’’ he spat.

Maxwell wasn't expecting an answer. His prey were never that savvy. His delirious face shifted easily from surprise to a simple smile. A line. Undefined and terrifying. He didn’t taught the captive to be that angry. He loved angry-articulated man. His mouth open with a wet noise:

‘’MAAhhh… This is silk to my ears. Please, keep on.’’

‘’I’ll silks your damned--’’ He snaped his finger, shadow where all over Wilson.  
‘’reaAAAAH-- HA, HAAAAAAaaaa…!! Hunnnn...’’

This, he did not expect.

Being choked.

Being choked he did not expect.

’Decision, decision.” The dark and elfish voice said. He snapped his finger again.

Some would say the scientist was a nuts lunatic, well, little did they know. Being choked was something he found provoking, stimulating. He had many fantasies about it which he wasn’t thinking about at the moment.

‘’If you had any use of my dead body, you would have killed me by now. What is it that you want?’’ Wilson choked voice established.

‘’You are very right.’’

And he keep on choking him.

As far as he knew, the demon was not strangling him for the same reason. It had the same effect anyway. Wilson tried to breath to no avail. He couldn't and his lung hurted.

‘’I have no use of your dead body.’’

The hands on his throat were tightening their grip. He felt his own pulse in his ears, he could feel the burn of the blood in his face rising. If the demon was to keep on going with this, their conversation was going to be even more-- ho shit. It was too late.

Shadow claw were pulling him in every direction. It hurted. He heard his clothes tearing. Wilson last word came in breath:

‘’I don’t know what I did wrong! I listen to you, I built your machine, I used my blood. I built your machine. I built you maR-- Stop. Harrgh! k- the love of god, stop!--..’’

Maxwell face was so close to Wilson he could smell the tick cigar aroma from of his clothes. He was looking at the scientist with his eyes half closed, in an everlasting forced bliss. It was like he was going to cum or sneeze but both nether happen. Wilson lung spasmed in despair for air, something else spasmed.

‘’What do you expect to find on the other side?’’ he said mid-trance.  
Wilson caught.  
‘’Your home?’’  
Wilson caught blood.  
‘’Your friends?’’  
Wilson laughs and his last word were:

‘’I might have just as much friend as you have, demon.’’

The demon opened his eye, amusement gone.

Wilson vision went black and he did not hear what the demon said next.

At the very last second Maxwell released him. Wilson dropped on the grass. Coughing alone in the forest, hard as rock. He could come only by being choked. The demon walked around him. Thinking.

Why wasn't he able to feed? What was wrong?

Wilson was but a mere fetal ball, panting and bleeding in this dangerous part of the forest, precum all over his trousser. But he wasn’t as scared of Maxwell as he let out, Maxwell knew that, and threat of death aside it was going to be an other game with this one.

Something he did not anticipated was up. Wilson seemed to be enjoying part of fight they were having. Maxwell forced him on his back with his fancy shoe and parted his leg.

He theatrically rolled his eyes.

‘’Well, this is peculiar.’’

It was the first and the last time Maxwell would touch Wilson erection. Leather sole pressed on it.

‘’You do are an eccentric in every way.’’

The sensation was good to wilson.

This was not going the way Maxwell intended.

He putted his feet on the man neck and applied little pressure. What was pressure of 1 pound for the demon was 15 for the human.

Wilson groaned.

‘’So you love to be choked. Hum.’’ Maxwell remarked unsatisfied.

The devil fetched a box in his tuxedo inside pocket and opened it. The cigar cutter made a satisfying noise as it snap the tips of the cigar. A dim light finally showed the pale face of Maxwell as he lighted a match. He took his time to savour the first puff.

Wilson, face was half in the dirt. He had a throbbing erection that was pressed against the ground and was giving him shot of little pleasure but he only wished he was out of the demon's grasp and out of this world.

‘’This you like.’’ Exhaled the tall and elegant man. He was getting bored of this game, he would take what he came for. His long feet took a calculated leap backward and shoved himself into Wilson face.

Wilson made a inhumain noise.

‘’This you don’t.’’ He turned around.

Wilson holded his face for a long moment. His nose was not broken but it bleed, it bleed like he had never see.

‘’Bloody hell!’’ He cursed between his finger.

And it hurts, god it hurts.

‘’Now I get why you don’t had any friends.’’ the monster said.

‘’Bloody. Damn. Hell.’’ The young scientist cursed. It was too intense for him. He loved intense. But this he didn’t want to enjoy.

‘’New games, new Pal, new rules. Gotcha boy.’’ His voice seem to be everywhere in the forest. Wilson was hearing little weird noises in his hears, many of what he was saying was to keep himself sane.

Wilson felt dizzy for a instant. It was with a choked voice that he tentatively-joked:

‘’If I can’t enjoy the good time I have, I might as well enjoy the bad- GHRAAAAAA--!!’’

It did not amuse Maxwell. ‘’Is this part of YOUR plan? Clever talk your way out?’’

Wilson body was pulled up for as second and released. A loud crack had resonated in his ear and he decided to be silent, there, belly on the ground. But it was too late. He heard the villain finger snap.

Shadow pulled on his arms and legs in direction a normal human wouldn't survive very long and bend him over. Maxwell lowered himself.

‘’Let’s clarify something we both know; I am not here to let you have fun.’’ He puffed his cigar on him.

Shadow did not seem to agree with Maxwell and slowly made their way under the man clothes. He feel their grip and the tentacles deliberately rubbing his belly, in between his legs and his crotch. Wilson hips jerked upward to escape the touch. He squirmed.

They pushed him back on the dirt and tore all of his clothes in the process.

Something slimy had made his way to his most untouched area. And it had started probing him. There was a slow rocking movement as the shadows began to stroke him.

This was not going as plan. This was not going as plan, but someone had improvised one.  
Wilson mind were going nowhere near reason as he convulsed with overwhelming lust. He was so close.

Feeling him tremble, the tentacles slowly made their way to his throat and tighten.

Wilson observed the demon in front of him pleading him in silence. Maxwell observed him back and no amount of struggling from the scientist was going to make him help. The rocking on his dick was frantic and he began to need air. This was too much. Another tentacle joined the one on his throat, and another, and another and Wilson bucked.

‘’No, no, no, no, no--’’ He said, his voice broken as he came.

They released his throat the very instant he came. He was all exposed on the ground, panting, his hair undone. Some part of his clothe were still on him, but most of them had been shredded.

He had turn his face to look away but Maxwell was still looking at him, waiting.

Maxwell was patient.

Sometime.

He tossed his now done cigar and snapped his fingers and all happened at once. The scientist did not know how many shadow were onto him but he felt all the hands going away while clawing him. Not getting any skin under their nails, only razor sharp claw on his belly, his arms, his legs. Blood flowed out like a stream. With one trust, something pushed himself inside of him far more deep than it should have and the tentacles choked him so hard they bend him backward. He let out a sharp cry of pain.

He looked at the man still standing in front of him with terror.

‘’Say, Pal, what part of your body do you need the most right now?’’ The demon smiled.

It was it, Wilson had cracked. He was scared. Scared and aroused but scared the most.

‘’Wha--?’’  
‘’Your leg?’’ he said shadow clawing him more.  
‘’Wait-’’  
‘’Your liver?’’ He said kicking him in the belly this time  
‘’Stop-’’  
‘’Your dick?’’ The thing in him pushed roughly and his whole body moved forward.

His mouth open but no sound came.

‘’It’s all fun and unconventional sexual display until someone LOSE AN EYE!’’ He grabbed his face with his cold hand and began violently swinging him from side to side, poking his eyelid with his nails. The thing fucked him.

It was terror that filled Wilson. ‘’NOT MY EYES! PLEASE NOT MY EYES!!’’

For a moment, the demon was feeding. He was erratic. Wilson litany of plead continue as, on top of him shadow grab his wrist. Maxwell was breathing non-evenly.

‘’Yes. YES!’’ He inhale. ‘’I can feel the hope escaping your body. It is a feast to me. In this hive, you are my personal stream of blood.’’

Maxwell voice echoed in the night and if there were still living creature in the area now, there was none.

By the time he was done, the physicist face was but shredded meat.

‘’Now I’ll grab myself a present…’’

‘’...Please stop.’’

Wilson felt him put something sharp around his annular. He panicked. 

‘’...So you won't forget…’’

He tried to remove his hands by shaking it in every way.

‘’STOOOOP!!’’

‘’...The rules.’’

The cigar cutter snapped his finger.


	2. Sharpened

Woodie lean himself on the edge of the barrel and looked at his reflection in the water.

The tan man did not recognize himself. He found he had circles around his eyes and his red beard was longer than his elbow.

3 years.

It had been 3 years.

He took of his gloves and scraped the snow on the edge of the barrel. His huge backpack fell to the ground as he fetch himself something sharp. A razor.

He had been a beautiful man once he taught, but now… Now he looked miserable.

Long years of never ending winter had done things to him. He was alone. He had no one.

The thought of it brought him to a not so far souvenir. A house, a red painted balcony with a wooden table he had made himself and the smell of homemade bear, pie and bacon. Ha I missed this. He missed all the good food. Once upon a time, he wasn’t stuck in this eternal winter. Once he had something he called home with peoples, with-

He looked at his wrist.

_Focus on something else._

He sight ‘’If I could, I would.’’

He began shaving himself. He never shaved his beard, not totally. He usually cut small part each week. But this day was different. He needed this.

The beard would grow back meaning he would grow back.

He carefully shaved his jaw. Careful not to miss spot, carefull not to cut anything.

_Focus._

Then he washed his face with the ice cold water. The face was somehow familiar, and he wasn’t so ugly after all. He looked at the house. He was in what he taught was a garden.

What he would do for bacon.

Bacon on a wooden table.

Wooden table and locks of blond hair.

He sighed and turned to the house. It looked abandoned.

_What about the peoples of this house, did you killed them too?_

Without hesitation, he planted his axe in log and proceed to approach the house.

_What? What did I said?_

The blue tiled roof was broken on the top and on the side. Half of the house had crumble on itself. It seem to be a 3 room house with an attic.

_Common, It was meant to lift you up, Woodie. You know it._

Wind would slide between the holes and window and ghostly whistle would give shiver to any man, even a lumberjack. No smell in the air, no smoke out of the chimney.

The step let out a loud crack as he walk on the balcony.

_You can’t let me in the cold._

He looked inside. It was a cottage. A dark, cold and scary cottage. He knocked tree time.

‘’Hello?’’ He carefully slide his head past the door frame ‘’Is anyone in there?’’

_Please, be carefull!_

He entered the house. Snow had made his way everywhere. This was not the kind of house he was use to live in. It must have been a 1870 house. The floor was merely intact but the wall… There was an ugly white wallpaper with black pattern. It was destroyed for the most part. Not by the snow, not by mold.

He came back outside and took his axe.

‘’It safe.’’

_It is even safer with me, I guess._

He carefully made his way to look at the holes in the wall on his leff. It had been scratched by something. Something big.

He took a step back.

‘’It ours.’’

Days past, week past, month past.

He discovered many thing about the house. Past the hole was a kitchen. The whole first floor, except one small cabinet, was a living room with half of roof fallen on it. Face to the entrance was 14 steps that would go on the second floor. On top of the kitchen was a bedroom and the rest was a crumbled attic.

He had accepted the challenge. Renovate all and once he had settle the las wooden plank on the bottom of a window he sight.

_We should put one more plank; a sign at the entrance, start a beer company and wait for customers._

Woodie usually let out a laugh when she joked like that.

He hadn’t laugh in years.

He tried to lift himself up. Moral was not here so he would lie to himself:

‘’You know what, I think imma eat of’a plate tonight.’’ His voice was happy but someone couldn’t past the melancholy in the tone.

And he did just that. He got rid of his boot, sat himself near the fire and ate.

There was a long and calm silence and Woddie smiled.

_Happy 23, Woodie._

‘’Thanks you, Lucy’’

 

* * *

 

Previously this year the had found what had caused the collapse of in the house; a monster.

I was on the only two month of sun they had. When the soil was covered by hay and grass. He had wandered around the house and found an odd metal door. A trap.

It was not locked but it took him several attempt to open it, it was heavier than him and it was rusted.

When he finally opened it, the smell came out. There was a metal ladder that would lead down and he heard the hisssssshhh of a particular creature.

_Nope. Not now. Not ever._

He let go of the door.

‘’Agreed.’’

The same thing had happen in the house. A wooden trap had revealed a basement he could not stand.

He could not stand being confined, Lucy hated the dark and it was so small he had to lean. It was there that once a family stashed their food.

A family.

The wall were all tablet covered by dust. Sometime there would be several objects but most of them were cans, pickled jar, empty glass bottle, and rotten food.

A family made him want to eat bacon.

Bacon and pie.

This house was doing things to him. He taught making him his own would change the way he felt but no. Each day the sky seem grayer and grayer, wind seem to flow slower, night were longer, scarier, he had more and more nightmare and he swear he was hearing voices.

It was it. He would not return in the basement. He got out and placed a table on top of the trap.

He was tired. He wanted everything to end. Why him? Why? Why had he done that? Was this hell? Was this all vengence? If it was it was cruel.

Lucy had made him buried the razor. And for a strange reason, his beard hadn’t grow longer than, since then.

It won’t grow more than that, so why would you keep it? She had said, tone to soft to not be hiding something.

Woodie had not knew what to tell her. But he did not want to let go of the razor. After a moment, he had done what she asked anyway. He had dropped it with the spiders in the yard hole.

He had several mood swing. One day it was worse than the other and he talked to Lucy about the voices, about the loneliness, about his own voices.

_I hear them too, you know._

He thought of the razor.

Each day he had grow more and more anxious. He was stressed and no amount of sleep could give him back what everyday made him lose. He began to saw things in the shadow of the night and he was more and more scared of the basement.

When someone was confined to solitude, it was not unusual that he would talk to object. Woodie had been a funny and light headed man, alway talking alway replying in jokes. He was no more. He was scared. He was broken.

Then she said it : The unbearable truth.

_I think we are both going crazy._

A long and decisive silence mused the air.

‘’…’’

‘’...’’

‘’I have a solution for that.’’ he stood up and let Lucy on the table.

_Woodie?!_

Woodie tossed the table and opened the basement trap.

_No, no no!_

He began his descend. ...To fetch something sharp.

_Please, Woodie focus on something else!_

He wandered in the dusty basement till he found a bottle near old jam jar and jerky. He slammed it against a fortification post.

_We can talk about this, Woodie!_

Home made booze on his arm, he grabbed a pointed glass and broke it. He roughly pulled his sleeve, took the shard and press it against his pulse.

_Woodie, PLEASE!_

It was going to be over. No more winter, no more survival, no more monster, no more solitude.

_I love you, Woodie!_

He was shaking.

_Woodie I love you. Please, please, please, don’t do it._

Even his breath was trembling. His throat tighten, he was on the verge to sob. He was not able to do it.

 _I love you_ , the delicate voice said.

But he could not stand another moment here. ...Alone.

 _I love you_ , the delicate voice cried.

‘’...’’

Then his breath slowly calm down. The razor was going away from the wrist.

‘’...’’

_Yes! Yes, stay with me, Woodie._

Tears run down his cheeks and fell on his arm. It did not made a sound when he cutted his veins.

The metallic voice became inhuman : _NOOOOOOOO!_

Woodie let out the most sad and desperate sob.

He cried as he dropped on the floor and he frantically stabbed himself on the wrist. The pain was unbearable. He did not believe he was doing this to himself. But It was for a good reason.

All the rage and all the fear that had bulled up in him were going out to fast. ...With the wrong method.

Woodie cried. He cried year of grieving and years of solitude, alone, dying the basement. He cutted some of his right finger ligament in the process of piercing himself. Blood had squirted out on his face, his shirt and everything under his elbow was slick dark.

Even dying he felt alone. He felt so alone.

He cry all the tears he had until there would be any tears left to shed. His body would give him hiccup in attempts to breath in between the cries.

His clothes were damp from his blood and he began to feel dizzy, his head ached. Everything was blurred from tears and from frequent nightmare. He would die in peace. He felt his pulse fading and everything began to turn, and then he saw it;

Silhouette in the corner.

He yelled and stumbled on his feat. He slided, got back up and slided again. Letting go of his improvised razor, he tried to grab one tablet to lift himself up.

He felt the hot sweat of terror escape every pore of his body as the silhouette began to approach him.

And he ran.

He fuzz on the step, got grabbed, got pulled, got bitten, bleeded, stubbled some more, kicked the shadow, got up, grabbed Lucy and when out.

But it was dark.

The man knew he did not have more than second before other join the feast.

̛̣̘͈̹̽̐̒̊̾͋͌͛͑ͅ, the shadow screamed

The Lumberjack look, and it was getting out of the house, it had a head, legs and arms and it was running faster than Woodie.

He slipped, and crashed and he almost got Lucy in his shoulder, he got up and ran to the metal door.

He tried to open it but his bloody hand kept on slipping. Everything he did he did without thinking. Survival instinct had knowledge he hadn't.

_Woodie behind you !!_

The monster tackled him on the floor. He dropped Lucy again.

_WODDIE!_

He got pulled by the hair with force and teeth bit him in the neck but he grabbed Lucy back and chopped the monster head.

_GET OFF HIM!!_

Shadow split himself in two and vanish. Woodie, panicked searched the field and saw him reappear near.

He pulled the trap door up. God he pulled. His left hand was of no use because he had no more control over cut ligament and his right finger would not move. They slipt again and he let lucy on the ground. He pushed with his shoulder and the door was mid-open.

But the monster tackle him.

It tackle him inside the basement.

_NOOOO!!_

Door when up as Woodie head knocked it, hand he let out a pained sound. He grabbed the edge of the ladder as the shadow bounced over him and fell on the bottom of the crypt. His left hand let go and he quickly grabbed the rim with his other hand. But he was too heavy and the door went down.

Monster jumped on his back and pulled him down.

Down in the darkness.

Light was going out, door was closing.

A loud ‘’CLANK’’ echoed in the basement as he blocked the door with Lucy.

_Let’s chop some fucker._

Now was the hardest part. Woodie stood on the metal ladder and pull the door, he put one hand out, grabbing the grass. Pull some more, put one feet up, then another and he could put his head out of the basement. The monster raged under him and Woodie braced himself for another attack as he let a big ‘’GRaaaaaaa!!’’ as he pushed the door even more.

With all the weird noises coming out of it and all the blood, It was like the trap was giving birth.

Woodie stood on the last step of the lader and he then took feet on the rim, pushing the door up like some greek deity. Monster got him by his pants and he shook him of and let go of the door.

The monster fell. Lucy fell.

CLANK

She had slipped. Woodie was on his four, breathing heavily in short gasps, exhausted. He entered a state of rage he never felt before.

The lamentation came like a howling long and deep. ‘’FUUUUUCK!’’ Hot tears ran down his face.

‘’Fuck.’’ He sobbed.

His head fell down. His now clumsy fingers touched the trap as he realised what had just happen. He would never see her again. His finger shaked. He open his mouth and a mute cry shoke him. Everything was too painfull.

His rolled on himself in somewhat of a fetal pose crying.

‘’Fu...u….uu….u….uu...uu….ck….’’ he wept.

This was unbearable.

This was hell.

Then he saw more shadow.


	3. Fear of life

Hot breeze when trough Wilson black hair as he went through the portal. He was appreciative of every inch of heat that caressed his body. 

It felt so good.

It was summer.

Hurt, scared, and blind, he had woke up miles from his previous location and had find his way out of Maxwell forest with a divining rod. He had been desperate but persistent. 

When he had found the portal again, the objects were still there, lying on the ground. Even with no vision, hands full of dried blood and an empty stomach, he had wasted no time finishing his work.

This time; before the night felt.

The pressure gone. He was out. No more night. 

No more nightmare. 

He smelled cows manure and weed. He crouched and touched the dry and soft dirt. Grass, flowers, nothing like the previous dead forest. 

He had did it.

He was back.

His remaining finger where trembling. He felt his eyes moisturise.

He kneeled mechanically, paralysed by so many emotion it hurted him. He was not used to thoses kind of sensation. He was crying and smiling at the same time, it would seem, making a weird grimace.

He had escaped.

It took him a moment before he could catch his breath. 

The scientist lastly wiped his tears, regained his composure and stood up.

He hoped he was in near a city. Maybe near his home town. That he could go back to his normal life, to his home, to his habits. This time, no pact, no blood, no ‘night-monster Charlie’. 

Scared and happy, he tentatively probed the floor in front of him with his rod and slowly walked foward.

High and healthy grass surrounded him as he walked. He thought of his home and his room on the second floor. Of the lents he was going to finish. And how he could spy on his beloved neighbours from his room.

It was going to be a greats day. 

He had never had this kind of positive thought. Never. Who knew it would take a camping trip and an aggression to make him see the good side in life?

''Meow.''

It was faint. He stopped.

A cat?

He had doubt about where he was now.

He heard light step in the grass as it came closer. It purred when he rubbed his finger through the fur around his neck.

Definitely a cat. A normal sized cat. 

He felt a collar.

So he was not alone.

His good day had lasted 46 seconds.

Calm as he came, the cat wandered off with a little ‘cling’.

The black haired man decided to keep on his journey. He had crossed half the field when a suspicious old voice ask him: 

‘’Who are you boy? Demon or humain?’’

Wilson jumped while swearing. He turned and tried to distinguish where the sound had come from. He swung his cane in front of him.

‘’Who is there?’’ He tried to sound less scared than he was. He turned but everything he could see was black.

‘’I asked first.’’ pointed out the voice, not moving from his location.

‘’I- Hum, I am Wilson Percival Higgsbury.’’ He said, hesitating but firm. He waited for her to reveal herself.

She did not replied. As an attempt at doing a better presentation of himself a hand when through his hair to groom the oily and dirty mess he use to have clean. He did not knew what kind of man he was projecting, but he knew he looked like shit. Then he added: ‘’May I assume that by asking if I am a demon or not, you were put here by one too?’’

‘’Hum, Yes.’’ The professor said ‘’You are very correct young man, I was.’’

A silence. Wilson cane drop still. He gulped. Then said precociously ‘’I have never met any other human in here.’’ 

It was not a cute casual talk, it was a question. ‘Are you a demon or a human?’ was really what he just asked. She was franc:

‘’This is my island here. I rather you not come around it.’’

‘’It is not my intention to cause any harm. I only wish to find something, and I’ll be on my way!’’

‘’Well, good luck finding what you are searching for--’’

‘’Wait!-’’

She turned.

‘’...You have the advantage on me.’’ He tried to be pleasant. ‘’You seem to be the typical country lady. I am but a scientist, if can be of any use, I would repay you-’’

‘’No, thanks.’’

His tone came a little too harsh but the message was one of truth:

‘’I will die tonight if you do not help me. Please, I have lost my sight.’’

‘’You're Blind?’’

‘’Yes. Yes! I was blinded by than cigar smoking dem--’’

He heard her footsteps getting closer.

‘’I will not have you fool me, young man!’’

Suddenly hand were on his face. He wasn't sure at first, but the frail finger felt humain.

‘’Wha- ho.’’ he sight. 

Nobody never touched his face back at his home. Damn it was good time back then, he thought. She pulled the bandage with ease. ‘’This is a joke.’’ She said, addressing the universe.

‘’I am afraid it is not.’’

‘’HA!’’ She laugh. Wilson smiled nervously. 

‘’I know a thing or two about not seeing. ‘Cat is blind, I do not wish to see, but what you have here, son, is curable.’’

He was hoping that this woman was as intelligent as she sounded crazy.

She released him. ‘’Follow me.’’

* * *

He followed her footsteps. She was fast and she seem to like talking as much as he did. She had asked for his name, he had no interest in asking for her's. 

Wilson taught of two thing: One, maybe she was leading him to a certain death. Two, he did not wanted to be alone. How annoying of a feeling that was.

So death is what it was going to be.

He brushed something. He lightly touched, it was a fence. It seem like a normal fence he would have found in the countryside ‘back on earth’. She urged him not to enter the propriety.

‘’Wait here, Wilson. Do not touch anything.’’

‘’Of course, madam...’’

He heard her walking steps and he heard two door.

He tried. Really. But fear and curiosity got him. His stick ventured around. He had kept his word 17 seconds. He bumped against a metal tube. 

It was a water pipe. He tried to drink out of it. Nothing.

While she was fetching whatever she was he unscrewed several pipe, touched it, felt what the problem was, repaired it and screwed it back. When the woman came back, Wilson had his head under the tap and was drinking. No manner, like a pig. Yes.

‘’Can’t keep your hands in your pocket, Wilson?’’

‘’It’s again my nature, madam.’’ He hexaled happily.

She sight ‘’Name is Wickerbottom. Come in.”

 

* * * 

‘’...How long did you said you were here?’’ She tentatively asked.

‘’3 days.’’ He let out with pain as she removed delicately the bandage. 

The bandage he had made from his shirt where thin. Blood and lymph had easily soaked in all over his face and hardened so that all his upper face was a scab patch. Even with water, it was a pain to remove. The delicates finger couldn't do the trick.

He tried to think of something else ’’How long have you been here?’’

‘’11 years.’’

He had a hard time processing that. That was perfect.

Feeling everything was unfair here, he spat ‘’He came to me, gave me knowledge in exchange of my blood. Then, he shoved me into his portal.’’

‘’Ha! You are lucky he only took that.’’ she bursted ‘’From me he took more. And gave even more.’’

The bandage finally removed she began putting a cream on his eyes, his nose and his cheek. She had not commented on the wound but the hissing she had let out when she had finally removed all the bandage said it all.

He began to saw. Leaps of little light. Light didn’t hurt and she took a step aside. Looking at him. The first thing he saw was her, a kitchen, lots of jars and a crid. 

‘’And he come back to give present each year.’’

‘’You are too wise for your own good.’’

The woman had black hair and reminded him of a librarian. She seemed less than 40 years older than him. 

Her eyes were closed.

Closed, but she had glasses.

‘’This confirm you are a human. And you are the very first human I have encounter here.’’ She said looking but not looking at him straight in the eyes, she shifted her glasses and put her head to the side. ‘’This is not an invitation.’’

‘’Like I said earlier, I need only to find things, and I’ll be on my way.’’ He paused and added nervously ‘’Even if it is night.’’

‘’There is a barn outside. You can stay here for the night. But be aware by nightfall, I’ll have all my traps set and I won’t heal you if you happen to step in one.’’

Obviously the demon had given her as much knowledge as him and he did not wanted to mess with someone who had survived this long, alone.

11 years.

‘’And my finger?’’ He asked.  
‘’What of it?’’  
‘’Can’t you heal it?’’  
‘’You won’t be able to heal what he take from you.’’

What?

‘’But try as much as you want.’’ She ripped a page of her book. ‘’Here is the ointment ingredients recipe.’’

She gave him a paper, stood up and proceed to take the boiling water to make herself tea.

He looked at his missing finger. 

He folded the paper into his pocket. The blind but not so blind woman confused him.

Maybe she knew. Maybe she had done the same as him.

The same as him.

He was frank : ‘’A head shaped like a potato, a gold circle, a jack stand and a music box you never saw I presume?’’

‘’No.’’

He founded her answer strangely short.

He restrained himself from saying ‘’I taught so’’ stabbing her and searching the house for the pieces. He tried a more subtle approach.

‘’Nor took any portal?’’ he insisted innocent tone.

‘’No Wilson, I never saw any portal nor took them. Not that I know of.’’

Sensitive subject. This was no good. But, with the outside condition, he could take his time to find the pieces. Maybe settle a camp near the woman house if she was to let him. If- only if- the blind woman hadn’t explore. 

11 years, she had to had them. She had to lie.

Wait- If that was the case, she would already had killed him. Maybe she was not lying. 

Maybe he could come back with interesting thing, enough to poke her curiosity and they would live happily never after. 

‘’Well, if I can repay you for any of your services, let me know. As promised I won’t take any more of your time.’’

He stood up and stared at her. Studied her response.

He was blind no more and this woman seemed to know more about the human behavior than him. She smiled.

She let her pot of tea ingredient on the table.

‘’Well how considerate of you. I have indeed a favor to ask you, Wilson.’’

He was prepared.

His cane was near on the table.

‘’Yes?’’

She pointed a rather large glass pot up on a drawer up there. ‘’Fetch this pot.’’ There was a wood plank on her counter at hip level, many spices, cauldrons, pots, and knives.

I was not that easy. I couldn’t be that easy.

Nothing here was easy.

She continued tone of someone somewhat stupid. ‘’I happen to have putted mandrake and my favorite tea in the same pot. They have the same smell, but mandrake is white. Could you tell me witch one is the tea, please? It would be a shame if I were to die of mere sleep-poisoning after 11 years.’’

She played rough.

If she had wanted she could have killed me, he kept repeating himself.

She did not moved near him. She slightly presented the pot in front of her as if she was insinuating that he had to fill it with the tea. Still staying calmly near the knives.

He slowly approached the woman. Wood cracked under his weight. He was one feet from her. He stretched his arm over and took the pot from the dusty plank.

He was waiting for the knife on his exposed side.

He opened it and there were two green bags. It did smell of mandrake. He fetched the green bag, opened it.

It was tea. 

The other one was obviously mandrake. He smelled it and it was withe. He knew the plant. He couldn’t mistake them.

He looked at the old woman. Thinking maybe every piece of the thingy-puzzle were in pots scattered around the house. If he had found them in 3 days in the other world, she had plenty of time to find them. And she did not wanted him around the house.

How convenient.

Question was how he was going to play this one.

He already hated her.

He gave the woman the bag.

‘’This one. This one is tea.’’ He tried to sound charming but his tone was calm and way to calculated.

Skinny finger took the bag. ‘’Thank you, deary.’’ She smiled.

He putted the pot aside, right after the knife's, then took a step back, and another one. He took a deep breath. He needed to get out of here.

He stood up and took his cane. He made his way to the door when she added.

‘’Well, I will be around if you are in need of my crafty hand. Thank you for what you have done to my eyes and have a good evening.’’

He let go of the doorbell.

“Sleep well, Wilson.’’

 

* * *

 

Seven months had past and he had found nothing.

He had made a map, did a perimeter of each island he could know of. No trace of the artifact.

At the beginning he was inclined to think that maybe the old woman was innocent, that he hadn’t venture everywhere, but it was islands. He had mapped every corner on everyone.

No artefact.

He had built himself a one-room shelter on every island. And when time was too rough, he alway came back to ‘’the house’’. Wickerbottom house. She was not happy if he stayed too long. But, was fine the firths hours he was here.

Then it got him. He had to do it.

Maybe she lied. Maybe all the things were in her house. He feared that, if he touched something, she would knew. In fact, he knew she would knew. So he had to find excuses to dig in her things. Excuses that were sloppy, that betrayed his doing or that never came.

But he looked there and there. Nothing.

He used his rod.

No things.

He began to think of alternatives. Not so viable alternatives.

But then she had helped him into making a compass. It was telling north, time, directions, event temperature. She had helped him time and times again.

Maybe she was not lying. But what if she was.

It was with the compass that he had visited all island. All were different and empty. None of this was making any sense. No trace of life, no unusual object in weird round shaped flowers, no nothing.

Searching in her thing one day, he saw that the professor had also made a map.

Then he saw it. A frozen island. The only he hadn’t visited. Portail had been hidden in her yard. It was going to be here. It was going to be here or he would become crazy.

Crazy. 

He had been a man of manners. He had someone fetch him food and clean his house. The incessant survival thing, it was more than ‘things he had to do that he would rather not’. 

It was because it was a stressful game that took parts of him each night.

He had began to hear and see things.

One particular day he was sleeping on the floor in the old woman's house, he had heard fast knock on wood under him. It had woken him up. Then the weirdness of scratch and a distorted voice. Then nothing. It had been the most terrifying thing that happened to him. And he had seen his fair share of crazy.

He taught of that when he was alone. He tried not to but the memory came back

All those night alone. Fearing that if fire was not near him the ‘shadow’ would take him again.

He feed wood to the fire. 

He was going to fall asleep in his new built home-tent. A small cabin with a tiny opening to let the smoke out surrounded by trees covered by tons of snow. It was the best isolation he could get. It was cold, but the scientist could survive that.

He could survive ‘Charlie’, being alone, hearing weird things or over thinking.

Like each night, he tried to think of something else. 

He would feel mixed emotion. 

The fear wasn’t a sexual thing. Yes he did had singular preferences. But he could draw a line between ‘I craved to be insulted, surprised and treated roughly’ and ‘please, stabbed me in the eyes sir demon’.

And as uncanny at is was, it was not to be shared.

Back home he had built something to strangle himself when he feel like it. He had built many things to appease his craving. Introvert he was but he still had needs.

Like this night.

Never the thought of someone doing these things willingly to him occurs him. 

He loved so many other queer things. And he could live without it if that meant he was to be poke and tortured by a demon.

It was a calm night.

It was a calm night and his four-fingered hand slowly made his way down his pants. 

He had a good range of fantasies but this one came often with mix of scenarios these days.

He was venturing on a propriety that was not his.

It was Wiktoria’s. A blonde girl back in his home town that didn’t let anyone walk over her feet.

Maybe she had knocked him down, dragged him, gagged him and tie him up. 

Maybe she was asking him what business he had here but couldn’t answer but muffled noises.

Maybe she had gagged him so hard the rope had let withe mark around each side of his mouth. Some of his hair hurted and he would be on his knee. He would try to free his hands but the would be tied so well he wouldn’t be able to move his wrist. 

He passed his scarf around his neck in an all too familiar gesture and stood up for a second to pass it around a beam of the ceiling of his one room house.

He started pulling.

Maybe she would pull his hair. Yes. And ask him what he was doing here. She would slap him without restraint in the face.

She would ask again but he would get a rough slap each time he would try to defend himself. His face would burn. He would knew the mark would stay more than a week. She would slap his chest, his arm. She would punch him, grab him by the hair again and toss him on the floor.

She would take a step backward and roll up her lace underskirt. The view of it making him throbbing hard. She would notice, acted horrified, and she would kick him in the guts. 

This was the kind of thing that made him hard.

Sometimes she would fetch his brother and she would force his blond cock in his mouth. She wouldn’t remove the gag. It would burn so good. She would grab his hair and pushed so he had no more space to fill inside of his mouth. He would start gagging.

He pulled more.

He would fuck his face roughly, going deep and with no compassion. Wilson would try to move away, all tied up but he would not let him breathe. His cheek would became red by the lack of air, the incessant pushing-pulling and the occasional slap.

Lack of air made him excastic.

She would not remove her clothes, she would only free their captive slick dick, angle herself and ride him as she please. It would be a mess. She would not accept that he touched her, never. But loved when the composed scientist, all reserved, had in his trance all sort of lack of restrain. 

She would start moving then, angling her hips just so.

He trusted himself in his hand. Hard as he was, it wasn’t going to take long. He pulled. The back of his neck was no longer touching the ground. Only the top of his head was.

His hands would go to her hips without thinking. ‘’Wilson’’ She would say, and he would drop them to his sides again. And she would keep on fucking him.

There, Jesus, fuck, oh. He pulled.

She would put her feet in his face forcing him to look away, forcing his brother cock in again. He would make a guttural noise.

‘’Open it.’’

Sloppy pops. She would laugh.

‘’Open it or I will open it for you.’’

She would pull down the strain and grab him by the inside of the mouth. Two fingers each side like he was a horse and force his skin open.

‘’We will keep you’re mouth full. Warm and bloody good.’’

In, out, in, out. In, out, in, out. Constant gagging noise would escape him. 

He began lacking air.

He felt the invasive dick throbbing. The man was also enjoying himself. It would be fast, sweaty and messy. She would be the only one to talk.

‘’You wanted attention, hummmmm?’’ She would pinch his nose and he would choke.

‘’Are we giving you enough attention?’’ They would fuck Wilson so hard they were rocking agains the wall.

His face would shift from red to withe, like it was right now. He would be able to hear his own pulse. 

‘’Yes. That’s a yes.’’

The brother would grab him by the throat. Feeling his own dick as he thrusted inside of him. This was all he wanted. Yes. Her nails in his cheeks, his on the back of his neck. Her weight on his hips, the brother pulling him like he was some doll.

Yes. He was spasming. Red, rocking, and-

He pulled more. More.

He was on the verge of coming.

He pulled more- 

The roof cracked and collapsed on top of him.

Fire when off.

He jolted, pushed up so the roof debris would slide off him, bend, touched everywhere around him to find his bag.

Twig, twig, more twig, his blanket, Twig.‘’Bloody bootlicker!’’, a bag strap.

He pulled. Then, the cold wind carried a memorable hissing.

Charlie.

He went at it faster. The low-voiced creature was approaching.

He got through his bag with the dexterity of a surgeon vampire about to starve, searching inside of the the belly of a virgin.

He had skilled hands.

He lighted the place back. Panicked he pointed the lamp in every direction.

Trees, darkness, no 'shadow'. 

No tentacle dog tonight.

No voices.

No voices?

He was still hearing them.

‘’Ho-Oh!’’ He laugh and nervously looked around him.

Puffs of hot air escaped his lungs, he strategically placed himself on top of the collapsed fire. 

He would need to rebuilt the fire. He would need to rebuilt the fire FAST.

Something cracked not far behind him. He turned. 

Nothing.

He searched. Long tree, snow, maybe it was his imagination. Maybe he needed to go back to the old woman house. He could take his other lamp and try to outrun them.

The lamps was not that far, he could make it.

Another noise behind him.

He turned. ‘’You won’t make a feast of me again, Demon!’’ 

Still nothing.

It was in his best interest to go back to the lady house before the voices he heard were louder than his. His hand gripped the metal lamp tighter at head level. He was not going to let it go. 

He turned around.

It was tall, it has teeth, and it blew his light with far more force than human lung could.

‘’Balls of mfgh--’’

His face hardly press again the snow. The cold was biting his cheek. He saw a perfectly clean and modern leather shoe.

‘’I do whatever I want with you, Pal.’’


	4. Book of Lucy

Wilson took a sharp breath.

‘’Will I tie you up? Will I hurt you? Maybe you would like to be hurt?’’

Struggling made him regret. His face was shoved even more deeper in the snow.

‘’Maybe you’d love feeling the burn the next day. Knowing there is bruises under your clothes no one can see.’’

Wilson mouth part open.

He tried to speak but each time he woud have his face pushed in the snow some more.

‘’How boring already.’’ Maxwell said releasing him.

Wilson got up and breathed hard, searching around him.

‘’Do we have a safe word?’’

‘’I fear not.” Said the demon taking a step backward.

‘’We should have one.’’ He took his knife and stabbed Maxwell in the chest.

He had waited for a long time to do that. He had thought about it as much as he had thought about his beautiful neighbour. The steel had been made by Wickerbottom. An old recipe of hers. Forged in blood and nightmare. Effective against everything he had encounter that was intertwined with darkness.

He was waiting. He would wait and stab him till he fall.

But Maxwell did not move.

The demon fixed him, unhappy.

Wilson was much more intelligent and resourceful than he had anticipated and he would pay for that.

He was pushed and flew until his back and head hit a tree and felt on the ground. Snow felt on him and made his way in his clothes. His fingers wasting no time searching for the knife around him.

He heard the demon finger snap.  
‘’Hiiiiiiiiissssh’’

The snow was so cold. He was cold. But the bite of the snow was nothing compared to the bite that would follow.

The scratch came on his side. Then the shadow played with him. Like a cat. One scratch, another. He was momently pulled off the ground, tossed one feet to the left, then to the right.

He didn't knew where his knife was.

He was pinned on the frozen ground and the cigar cutter made a snap. The demon pulled out matches. With the dim light of his cigar he could see him toss the cutter on the ground.

‘’For when you’re done, Charlie.’’

Wilson got up and started to run.

He jumped, ran, ran again and was hit by branches, got up, ran again, tumbled, bled, ran, ran, ran until he couldn't breathe. He did not wanted to stop. He couldn't stop, he was still hours from home.

He paniced.

He could't take it.

He stoped.

Like it was his own shadow, the creature grabbed him.

Wilson trashed and fight.

But the monster was in no hurry this time. It took his time to part his legs, touch and explore him. Wilson closed his fist and was scared by how cold his hands were. He was shivering already. If this was going to be the same as last time, he hoped it will be quick.

 

* * *

 

He swore something had pierced his belly. It must have, it was something sharp. Blood flew at an alarming pace but in the dark he could only see the reflection or feel the hot liquid.

He healed himself on his way home. Wickerbottom cat had found him almost dead and the entrance of the island.

‘’You lost another finger?’’ He knew she would say. While replacing her pointy glasses with disdain.

‘’I am not exactly the most cautious of man.’’ he would say. Proudly making a point that this was why he was stuck here in the first place.

The cat stopped at the view of the front house.

The cat stopped?

Something was off. The door was open.

He pulled his black knife out and started to run.

Someone had broken in, the place was trashed, the table, the chair, the pots. The crib was in pieced. The old woman was lying on the floor. Dead.

‘’You think a year alone is long time here? How tedious.’’ Maxwell had told him while his somewhat of a dog fucked him senseless.

Wickerbottom had been dead for several weeks. If there had been a smell is was no more. Her cup of tea was on the floor.

He panicked.

Not because he was fond of her, or he had lost her. Because he felt nothing.

He was sad he could not rely on her anymore, but that aside, he felt… cold?

He lighted a fire. And when the shock passed he realised he could search the house. So he did.

He opened the drawer, pots, box, chest, search everywhere and found nothing.

‘’STOMP’’

The noise was so sudden he jumped in the air and let out the less manly of cry.  
A wooden board of the floor rose up and slowly regained its place. Like the house was breathing. Wilson looked at it captivated, knife ready.

The same noise banged again, He jump and fell with no grace. This time, something under the floor moving in his direction.

‘’HOLY MOTHER OF CRANBERRY.’’

He jumped over the bump and climbed over the sink. The bump followed him and began to trash the floor.

He was yelling like a mental. Cursing, pointing his lethal knife at nothing.

Before that thing decided to go out of the basement he jumped on the librarian and began to do the only thing he hadn’t done in this house : Search her.

‘’Goatish fool-born ratsbane from hell!!’’

Of course. She had them on her. All the pieces. He took her in his arm and run off.

His plan was to go to his nearest house, then, he could do the trip back and travel the portal to go to the ice island.

He was not the strongest and he was hurt. But it was nothing compared to his previous night.

‘’I’ll show you how death can be more of a relief than life!’’ He began to beat him like a plump.

‘’I don’t know what more you want from m--’’

The pain was so intense that no sound escaped his mouth. He had exhaled barely all the air that in his lung. Only a faint skirt fell out of his throat.

‘’I am sure a well-educated man like you will see through me.’’

He was tied up by the head, feet just centimetre from the ground. The rope was made of a sharp material. Nothing like the shadow hands.

‘’You don’t have to do this!’’

‘’Ho Wilson. Wilson, wilson, wilson.’’

 _The first woman I ever bring to my house is a dead one_ , he thought. While setting the frail woman on his bed. He had not intention of sleeping now that he had all the pieces.

Speaking of which, one of the pieces of the music box was broken. When he figured out why, everything made sense.

It missed a human heart.

How could he had been so stupid.

‘’So that is why you were so afraid of me?’’ He sigh.

He began inspecting her body. No trace of fight, no trace of any lethal wound.

He took a sharp breath. Nervous.

No maggots.

He began repairing the thing.

 

* * *

 

After a day, he had found it. Frozen on the grass; the Hexagon. He had almost pass through it.

He scrapped the half-solid snow out of the object. It was it. A wooden hexagon with radiating red viking letters.

He built the door.

He hadn’t prepare himself for what was going to happen next.

The wind became crazy. No normal cold wind, it became hot. In less than a minute, all the snow had melted. He looked at his compass. Polar were reversed.

He entered the portal.

Another place.

This time, he could see.

It was fall, and he was washed of by the feeling of accomplishment.

There were pine everywhere, bushes, chopped tree.

Ok, another human is here, he guessed.

One day passed and he had found more berry here than every other places. He wished for a lake or a river when he saw a strand of smoke in the sky.

He rushed through it. A house. Yes. Maybe it had a tab like the librarian one. Maybe not. It was very much older than the one Wickerbottom had. No fence, a yard with lots of vegetables and something odd:

a metal trap with a handle full of dried blood.

 

* * *

 

Woodie was inside his house. On the verge of making another irrational decision. Maybe he should go back to the basement, maybe he could fetch something sharp.

Maybe Lucy? She would do. Never mind the monster down there. He would make a good snak. He got outside.

And then he began hallucinating.

A tall figure was standing on the verge of the bunker in the yard. Old gray-black striped clothes. Black hair.

Maxwell.

He did not knew how he had travel the garden so fast but he kicked the man so hard in the back he bounced on the metal door with a loud ‘’Tonk’’ and felt like a dead doll in the basement. The door shut with a loud creaking.

 

* * *

 

Wilson stayed there for a long moment, readjusting, blinking, panting.

When he came back to reality, everything he could see was darkness. He was on his back.

‘’Haaaa dismal-dreaming bugbear.’’ He sweared with a hiss touching his head with the tips of his remaining fingers.

Bloody Hell. What has that been?

The soil was rocky and humid. He got on his knee.

_Are you alright?_

‘’Y-Yes. I have seen better day.’’

_Will you be able to stand up?_

‘’Yes.’’ He winced.

_Keep it low. We are not alone in he-_

They began to hear them. Wilson couldn’t see but his ears were not lying to him. In no time he was on his feet. He began touching everything around him.

Nothing, nothing, air, more air, spiderweb, nothing, a metal ladder.

He climbed it all in four leap and began pushing to get out. He wasn’t strong enough. Storming the metal door he yelled:

‘’Let me out!”

_Wait!_

He heard them getting closer, the shadow, or whatever was inside this place. It began to awake and walk near him.

‘’Let me out ear hear me!? Open this damned door!’’

_Please take me with you. I hate it in here!_

He hesitated and looked to where Lucy voice was from, but couldn’t see a thing.

Then the door opened swiftly and a sole meet Wilson face. He was kicked back to the bottom of the basement again.

Woodie was to close the door in the same movement but realised something and reopened it instead.

They all heard hissing.

Wilson saw a humanoid form in the light and. His attacker. He took the first thing that came into his hand and threw it at him.

It was an axe.

The man did not even flinch to avoid it, he moved one hand a little bit in front of him and caught it with terrifying agility.

_Finally._

Then, he bend on the basement entrance.

‘’Grab my hand!’’

Wilson looked behind him and then he looked at the man, and then behind him again, jumpy, his hand holding his bleeding face.

‘’I am not grabbing anything from you!’’ He said panicked.

‘’It’s full of spider down here!’’ He leaned in a little bit more.

‘’I am well aware of this detail!’’ The scientist yelled.

‘’Then grab my fucking hand!’’ Woodie roar.

Wilson gave in and he jumped on the latter. Soon he took Woodie hand. He tried to grab the metal entrance as he was hissed out of the dark with force.

The metal door shutted down loudly.

They were out.

Wilson pulled back and the solid hand were forced to let go of him.

It was a young red haired man. A terrible looking young man. Mud and dust all over, weird textured gray-blue pants, squared punctured and ripped shirt and with no undergarment underneath it and no tie. Who was this clown?

The man was looking at him. He looked at him like no one has ever looked at him before; as if he had been money.

No, he wasn’t sure.

Now he was looking as if he was going to murder a good amount of money. And, like it was nothing, he looked at his Axe.

Woodie held delicately Lucy with both his hands. He did not knew what to say to ask her to forgive him. His heart was racing. Lucy. She would be so mad at him.

''...I am sorry.''

Wilson was still panting. This was intense. And god knew he loved intense. ‘’Ho, so you are to murder me, now?’’

Woodie saw he was trembling. He looked at the man in front of him. He was not who he had thought it was. He hadn’t been this happy for years and emotions came right through him. His vision blurred. He blinked multiple time and straighten up to appear somehow normal.

‘’What?’’ he sniffed.

‘’I asked if you were going to murder me.’’

‘’What?!’’ He asked again louder in disbelief.

‘’Murder. You know what killing is-’’

‘’No. Yes! No, no, I-’’ Woodie mouth was open. He did not knew where to began. He was at lost of words.

He put one hand in front of him, the one with the axe. He opened and closed his mouth and pace the story with blinking and breathing butt still nothing was going out of his mouth.

The man in front of him shook his head and made swift hand gestured back to signal he was lost in Woodie explanation.

Woddie gulped and pointed the trap. Shit. He took a deep breath. ‘’Sorry for ya face. I thought you were Maxwell.’’

Wilson eyebrow frowned. He did not believed the man at first. ‘’Name is Wilson, and I take offence that you compare me with the demon I unfortunately made my worst nemesis.’’

‘’Sorry mate but ya have the same haircut and from behind and your clothes look hell o’ alike.’’

‘’No. No, they don’t. But seen as you dress, you must be blind or not have many sight left.’’ He said insulting tone that made the man ...laughs?

Woodie shoulder convulsed and he did not bother to hide his amusement. While taking a step forward. He switched his axe to the other hand and gave him his right for a shake.

As if they were dancing, Wilson immediately took a step back and left a theatrical finger.

‘’Haaaa. No, I’d rather not.’’

The skinny man was scared of him. His eyes kept on vasling between him and Lucy. He thought the ginger would kill him.

Woodie, for his part, was not scared of death. He tossed Lucy to the crazy haired guy.

‘’Well, ....Wilson, I am but an innocent farmer.’’ he articulated, imitation of Wilson tone.

Wilson did not answer and only looked at him. As if he would read through him. Night was approaching.

Who knew what sort of thing he had been through. The lumberjack had saw his fair share of darkness, he could only imagine what this man had seen.

‘’This is my house,’’ He pointed ‘’And you are welcome if your intentions aren't to fuck my shit up.’’

Wilson asked himself what language the man was suddenly speaking. He shouldn’t be here. He should take the axe and go as far as he could from this man. What could be more dangerous to be with another human. A innocent farmer. Nobody here was innocent. Surely Maxwell hadn’t pick the most sane peoples to live here. Wickerbottom had been right never trust no one.

‘’I would rather help that woman trap down here, thank you.’’ He was going to take the axe but decided to let any lethal weapon out of the stranger reach so he putted his shoe under and kicked it softly out of his reach. Still looking at the broad man with suspicious eyes.

_Hey!_

Wilson jumped. Lucy laugh.

_If you are to dress like a gentlemen, please act like one!_

Woodie was not sure how to talk about this. ‘’’She’ is out.’’ He simply answered, reluctantly pointing at the axe.

The scientist thought maybe the man was even more stupid than the old woman.

Not the most sane, he thought.

 _Yes_ , the shiny voice said happily, _you feed me._

Wilson looked at the axe and Woodie successively.

‘’’She’, is an axe.’’ Wilson said.

_HoooOOOooo I am Lucy the hunted axe!_

The voice was without doubt coming from the axe.

Not the most sane.

Not the most sane.

_Fear my capacity to cut wood and toast HooOOOoouuu!!_

‘’What in the name of-’’ He kneeled in front of it. Keeping an eye on Woodie and moved its head to listen and went to take the axe but stopped midway.

_I had fallen down and now I am rescued! Maybe I’ll write a book about it._

‘’It was an accident.’’ said the lumberjack.

 _32 days is not an accident, Woodie_.

Woodie decided to look at the ground.

_But I forgive you. How could I not forgive the most cute beaver of them all?_

‘What if I touch it?’’ Wilson asked carefully to Woodie.

‘’You already did.’’ Woodie pointed.

_...I’d rather not do that again._

‘’She do not like being touch by other than me.’’

Wilson turned his head to woodie with the most confusion he could ever manage to express.

_Not everyone like many partners. It’s 2026, I do what I want._

The scientist laugh and stood up. Thinking this was the most beautiful piece of magic he had ever see. Not the most freakish thing he had seen, or heard. He tried to look normal, unnerved.

He putted his hands in his pocket. His knife was still there. ‘’Last time I heard an object talk, I was shifted into a portal.’’

Woodie smiled. ‘’Well this one won’t give you any troubles.’’ And he add ‘’Not the kind you'd expect.’’

_Hey, I cut wood with style, what can YOU do, hun?_

Woodie voice was low and playfull : ‘’Delicious pancake.’’

_Touché._

Not the most sane, Wilson taught. Not the most sane

But not unbearable crazy.


	5. Ladies in the woods. Part 1/2

Woodie opened the door and entered first.

“Is this where you keep your guest when you don’t lock them in your basement?’’ Asked the suited man while scratching the dried blood of his non-existent finger.

Lucy giggled softly because her last month had been worst than Wilson.

The lumberjack would not let them gang up on him. He played the safe card:

‘’Yup. Feed them beer and maple syrup t’il they died of diabetes...’’

_That’s what you get for trusting a ginger._

Woodie was not in the mood. He gave the other man his space and leaned on the top of his chair. Quietly waiting.

The pointy haired man joined his hand behind his back and looked everywhere. Up, down, in every corner.

The inside remembered Wilson of his grandmother house. But it smelled better. The house looked like the strange man. Some old furniture mixed with new made one. All of wood. He must had been born thousands of years after him, because some of his things were unfamiliar to him. It was far more warm here than the old woman house.

The old woman. She had lie. Maybe the big man would lie...

Woodie saw he trailed his finger over everything, even under the table to see if something was hidden. This man was paranoid. Paranoid here meant he was not stupid. He had seemed interested in his broken phone, then the window, then he stood in front of the chimney.

Wilson was looking at frame of trophy on the wall... Without the usual stuffed heads. One had a gold circle. The other were empty.

He putted his hand back in his pocket.

‘’How many time have you been ...here?’’ He enquired.

He still had his knife in his pocket.

‘’Three years and… Erm… Four months. You?’’

‘’In fourteen days, it will be my eighth months in this hell.’’ He said his mind wandering off, still examining the portal piece. Something clicked in his pocket.

‘’You interested in the circle?’’ Asked Woodie without malice.

‘’You know what that thing is?’’ He would not believe Woodie to be able to understand this kind of science.

‘’Of course.’’ He approached and hinted at the top of the chimney. There was an empty spot. ‘’I had the music box, but the amazon stole it.’’

Wilson let go of the knife.

Interested the scientist turned his head to look at him. ‘’We have another enemy?’’

He was glad the man was reasonable. So they were allies already. But Woodie made an unreadable face. He could not stop the memories from coming back. Question or not. He could not blame Wilson. The ‘Amazon’. How to explain this one?

‘’Heeeem, no. ‘We’ don’t. But she is dangerous tho.’’

‘’Nonsense.’’ Spat Wilson walking toward him ‘’Where is she?’’

Woodie was not happy to where this conversation was going. He did not wanted the man to do irrationals things so he gave little information.

‘’Somewhere, in the woods.’’

It fired up the scientist ‘’I’ll let you know I got out after three days. I bet you ten shillings I’ll beat that tonight.’’ He walk by Woodie but before he made his way to the door he was stopped.

Woodie had not wanted to grab him that hard.

Wilson looked up. His pulse rose.

The blue-eyed man warned him with his forever calm and low voice ‘’We don’t go in the forest at night.’’

Wilson swallowed. Every droop of the advice sank in. Was he… Was he… too? He looked at his fingers. He had no missing finger.

Why had he not any missing finger? Spike of anger painted in his tone. He was not the one to ask personal question, but all he wanted was a confirmation, really. ‘’Why don’t we?’’

Woodie released the man wrist but did not stepped back. Wilson eyes were searching his. How could he tell?

He did not knew how many time it had happened by now. It was alway by nightfall or in the darkest of night.

The very first day he was exploring, he had forgot to bring a torch with him. Then, the nightmare had begun.

The shadow had used him so many time.

He had never been found of the grey zone of sudden relationship when no meant yes and please stop also meant yes. He was not fond of all this.

This night, all his no had meant no.

After hearing noises he had started running back from his location. He had been running over the frozen river, believing the monster wouldn't follow him there. What a mistake.

Something had grabbed his legs and he was stopped with such force he slipped and felt on the ice. It at broke under his weight. After that was invasive touching, kissing, and too much cold water not to hurt.

He had survived.

His health was threatened, but he had survived.

He had make sure he had a torch with him ever since. But sometimes, unanticipated things happened. Every time at night.

He knew, each night, it was there. Looking, waiting.

If the shadow was not enough, one day, a winter creature had wrecked the house. Leaving him in the cold of the coldest winter night he had ever experienced, tired, and scared.

The white creature had wanted him dead. It had chased him for hours in the wood. Woodie had fight back but the creature had hurt him so he was dizzy from blood lost. Day was not near, his torch would not last. Woodie had thought he would die.

That either the shadow or the monster was to get him. He had never run so fast.

Never.

Then she had appeared. The amazon. She had slain the beast and asked him for a ‘payment’.

She hadn’t really. She was speaking a language he hadn't understand and it was clear she did not got anything he was saying either. But she had made it obvious. At this point, he had done it to say thanks. But she had took advantage of him and he could not wash out the feeling of being used.

That.

That was not a mixed emotion either.

The young woman had beautiful features, much more than average beautiful but it was not how he was use to do things. He was a sensible man. He had to take his time, to know the other one, to share things, then… and only maybe then, he would feel other urges.

He was still hurt of how his previous relationship had ended.

How all of it had ended.

It reminded him the table he had crafted ...and broken. The delicious breakfast he was sharing with- whit his now dead-

The thought of being alone was still there. Alway here, creeping back. Another thought flashed. Something else, something sharp.

‘’There’s girls in the forest.’’ Woodie hand massaged the part in between his eyes.

Wilson head moved back, his brow expressing confusion. ‘’Ladies ...in the woods?’’

‘’Yes. One of them only go out when it’s dark, but the other one got a spear and s-’’

‘’Females are but frail and delicate things. Am I to be scared of one that can’t fathom the thought of important matters?‘’ The scientist puff, wanting to make Woodie feel stupid.

Woodie looked at him in disbelief.

He bursted in a sad and disgusted laughter.

‘’Geez that’s male supremacy so far up my ass, I’ll taste tax bills for weeks.’’

Wilson was not amused by how every insult he threw at the man, made him laugh. Not amused.

Woodie taught of the time the skinny man was obviously from. 1900? 1800? Maybe sarcastic comeback like this one where not the way to approach things. How could he explain what happened to him then?

‘’You have a lot to learn, my friend.’’ he sigh, a sprinkle of warning in his voice.

‘’I beg to differ.’’ the intelligent man answered proudly.

‘’Ho, you won’t love to beg. Believe me.’’

‘’I stand my ground on this one, son.’’ He closed his eyes and made the tiniest of head gesture, accentuating his words.

Woodie was too gullible to get that last one.

 

* * *

 

They were in his room. There were a wardrobe, a large bed, many drawers, chests, a table and a chair.

‘’This should do.’’ Woodie said unsure, looking at the scientist shoulders, legs, height, and the clothes, back a forward.

Across the room, Wilson made all sort of calculation. The man was taller and stronger than him. He could not overpower him. How would he play that one? He stayed like this, fixing him.

He was rather pale for a lumberjack, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he had started hearing voices.

Voices, hummm.

Woodie took his silence for sadness. He had saw that the man was not well dressed for winter and maybe he had fallen off a cliff, because all his clothes were ripped apart. His pants were a torn and dirty mess.

‘’Here.’’ He said giving him handful of clothes.

‘’Did the ladies of the wood sewed them for you?’’ He teased stepping closer to get the clothes.

‘’Nope. I found them on people. Dead peoples.’’ Woodie confessed. ‘’Still want them?’’

To the young man surprise Wilson had not made a face. He carefully examined the fabric, not because he was picky, but because anything here could arm him.

Then he looked at Woodie, tapping one finger impatiently on top of the clothes. ‘’Well…’’

Woodie thought he was uncertain.

‘’I keep them to- you know- have something else to wear when my shirt is dirty.’’

The older man looked at him as he would not wash often.

Woodie tried to defend himself. ‘’It has been a rough month.’’

‘’Make it a year.’’ He smirked.

Was that sarcasm? ‘’Here we go.’’ Said Woodie with a smile. ‘’I knew we would get along the second I was you.’’

‘’You kicked me in the face.’’

Woodie hesitated between ‘’I already had forgot.’’ and ‘’My point exactly.’’ Both didn’t seem like the right way to make amends. He closed his mouth, crossed his arms and nodded slowly, uneased. Yup.

He saw Wilson was looking at him, still tapping his finger. Waiting.

‘’What?’’

‘’Privacy?’’ He made it sound obvious.

‘’Privacy?’’ 1800, Woodie thought. ‘’Privacy, yes! ...Privacy.’’ Woodie got out.

 

* * *

 

The ginger was in his chair near the fire, drinking his own-made beer, Lucy close to him, when Wilson asked him from the stairs:

‘’How do I look?’’

Woodie turned.

He still could not tell if the man had a nose, a scar or any imperfections from all the blood and filth that were on his face and on his hands. He had saw the man was missing two fingers. That was all. The lumberjack smiled and finished his beer.

‘’You look like a reddish-emo version of beetlejuice.’’

‘’Was that English?’’ His tone was bitter. He went down the stair.

‘’Fuck ya, mate.’’ He laugh.

‘’Excuse me?’’

Woodie could not blame the man for taking everything he said so seriously. But he had to adjust.

Ha men, that must be the most sexual thing he had ever heard. If only we had wifi, he thought playfully. Then became more serious and tried a :

‘’Please, please. Take no offence. It is how we talk nowaday. It was hardly a joke.’’

He saw Woodie standing up and put Lucy near the fire. He sat back and opened himself another bottle.

‘’Was it?’’ Wilson never had any patience for people. This one was no exception. ‘’I will need wine.’’

‘’You’re in luck.’’ Woodie poured the man a glass.

 

* * *

 

Woodie had begun to talk at first. ‘’Any Children?’’ Was that not how every conversation begun?

The scientist was playing with his cup. ‘’Not that I know of.’’

‘’Me neither. Wanted some, tho. Never got the chance.’’

Wilson brow raised in disdain.

Woodie needed something to calm himself. He was trying to make the man talk and be at ease. To show him he was cool and all. They could be serious allies one day, really. He would need allies. But somehow the man at not seen the most chatty and looked at the door. He clearly did not wanted to be here. Bonus : every topic so far had made him think about his past. And it was hard to bear.

He changed topic. One he could play with.

‘’Any family?’’

‘’God no.’’ Wilson drunk at this one. They had never get along well.

Woodie was not the only one that needed to forget, then. He could let him talk a bit. Surely the man would speak to cover silence.

No.

No he did not.

The young man could ask him how he had got here, but seen as his own entrance in this world had been, he would rather not ask. Fuck. Everything made him think about that.

The razor is still here.

He drank.

Wilson had only one thing in mind and it was to ask him about the things. But seen as how reluctant the old woman had been and how it had tainted their exchanges, he was torn between keeping the man on his good side and to let his curiosity go.

‘’What was your occupation back then?’’ Wilson asked.

‘’Vacation. But I use to work at a lumberjack camp.’’ Woodie eyes trailed to look at Lucy. ‘’You?’’

Wilson was taken by surprise. This kind of 'I ask you, you answer, then I answer my own question', was not the way he was used to discuss. He thought of the lens he was crafting to spy on his neighbour. How would he love to finish that project.

‘’Hem I… Build things.’’

Woodie was actively listening to the man to forget his own thought. Wilson didn’t knew what to say more. He wanted the man to fall asleep and go out, search the woods and found that damn music box.

Wilson drank angrily.

Then, it came out of nowhere.

‘’Sorry I am not used to exchange with others. To be frank, I haven't spoke to someone in month, and ‘back home’ I wasn't the most chatty character of my neighbourhood.’’

‘’It's ok. Ask what you want. I'm an open book. It’s not like we are going anywhere tonight.’’

Wilson could not find the courage to do so. Not now. Not even in a million years. He had question. Yes is had. His life was driven by curiosity and testing the limits.

Questions, he always had.

Then woodie remember and ask with enthusiasm:

‘’What year you're from?’’

‘’1889.’’ he said, still thinking he had to said something.

Woodie seemed proud he had guessed right. Wilson would try. Wilson had to try. Imitating the man Wilson tested ‘’You?’’

Woodie drew back a little and slowly articulated ‘’2026.’’ He waited for the man to spit his beer.

Seeing the man reaction, it was easier than he had tough Wilson thought. He added : ‘’Was that yours?’’

Real curiosity. Pointing at stuff he did not understand the use.

The 1800's man pointing at stuff he did not understand the use.

Woodie had fetched them. IPhone, wallet, credit cards, car starter, and explained them all. Wilson was, to his surprise, very please with the way the conversation had turned. He pushed and questioned more.

Then, Woodie got a little sad when he asked about the keys. The home keys. He did not wanted to think of something sh- He changed topic..

He changed topic..

Working habit, political habit, living habit, love habit.

‘’Well…’’ Wilson said blushing a bit. ‘’Why would anyone wear undergarment with such liberal lives.’’ He was somehow jealous.

‘’God I wish we had wifi!’’

‘’Stop speaking in tongues.’’ He said almost angrily.

Woodie started to laugh again. Wilson abdicated.

Then, maybe the scientist was learning or it was the alcohol talking but he found the courage to ask:

‘’Have you ever seen a …’Charlie’?’’

“Charlie? Charlie as Charlie we talked earlier?’’

‘’I don’t recall you talking about Maxwell hellish dog.’’ Only saying that made Wilson remember the slimy flexible arms around his most sensible parts.

‘’It is as I can still hear him bark...’’ Said Wilson blank expression scratching his forhead.

Woodie was confused. 'Him'?

Ho, right.

The lumberjack looked at the man the other side of the table, thinking he understood the problem. He raised his hand as to ask the man to brace himself for what he was about to say. ‘’Ok, ok. Sometimes, I can see in the dark.’’

Wilson head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed a bit in disbelief.

The bearded man added ‘’Charlie, is not a dog.’’

Now Wilson was confused.

‘’She's a woman. I have seen her.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’She is like maxwell- like, like a humanoïd shadow-. She is one of the girl I was talkin’ about.’’

‘’What!?’’ Whispered Wilson his bottle dropping, his pulse rising.

‘’From what I got over the years, Charlie is Maxwell’s assistant. She is like- dressed all in black with a sort of red hairpin on the side- I can assure you she is not a dog. 99% not a dog. Can’t bark. She can shapeshift tho.’’ Woodie was soaked in deep thought, then. ‘’Well ...maybe she can bark then.’’ He drank.

Wilson remembered everything once again but with the new information, everything took another turn for him. That was not why he shifted a bit, crossing his legs.

Woodie... Woodie and Charlie. He swallowed and stood straight.

‘’She look like she is from your ‘era’.’’ Added Woodie.

Wilson thought he would have to drink himself to process that one. Was it just him or was it hot in here?

Charlie was a woman. All the more reason to go out.

But he had other ‘things’ in mind. He looked at the door, then Woodie. His bravery rising.

‘’Do your peoples have drinking game?’’

Woodie thought of the camp at night. ‘’We live for that.’’ He smiled.

‘’Good.’’ Said Wilson opening them a new bottle.

 

* * *

 

When woodie woke up, Wilson was not where he was supposed to.

He quickly looked around the house when Lucy told him:

_I think he will meet the other member of the ‘family’ soon._

‘’You’re not serious.’’ He said panic rising.

He looked by the window. He saw Wilson silhouette and a dim light far away, at the entrance of the woods. That man was bold.

‘’You kiddin’ me.’’

Bold or stupid. Had he listened to anything he had told him?

Woodie was tempted to go after him. Then, he remembered.

Him barely drowning in a cold lake, touched, and touched again buy the shadow. ...The amazon.

Haaa, fuck that. He thought stepping back.

If the man was to survived that night, he wouldn’t go back in the wood at night.

He would learn his lesson.

If he survived.

If the skinny man was to die...without anyone, he would feel alone.

Time would pass, and without anyone, he would feel alone.

Like that time in the basement. Like when he had broken the glass and thought of something sharp-

Like when he was against the shelves, in a corner. He had broken the bottle, took a shard of glass and stopped looking at his wrist. The thought of something sharp- It had been real-

He snapped out.

Fuck.

He went out.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a non-english speaker so feel free to correct my queer fiction or point out any nonsense.


End file.
